


you're on a motorbike with a beautiful boy

by misandrywitch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First War, M/M, Poetry, post—hogwarts, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 09:25:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misandrywitch/pseuds/misandrywitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>remus and sirius during the war</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're on a motorbike with a beautiful boy

**i.**

**you’re on a motorbike with a beautiful boy and you’re innocent, but he doesn’t think you are.**

you sit somewhere between monstrosity and man, between timidity and anger, and all you can think of are his eyes, and how they skimmed past yours when they used to meet, in lazy heat and laughter

for a moment, you want to do something dangerous, dramatic, tear at your clothes and tear at his face and demand

you cling to his strength of his shoulders because that’s all you can do and the engine hums between you

his hands do not linger at your lips or your lower back

“don’t bother,” he says and his disdain is exquisite, like his voice, like his face. he climbs steps without you, ice crystals in his hair and

you turn away to  vomit into the snow

you don’t hate him

**ii.**

**you’re in bed with a beautiful boy and you’re angry, and you don’t know how to tell him**

there’s a part of you that revels in violence, that wants to lunge at his white throat with teeth bared and rip the answers from his mouth but it scares you so you stare at the wall and say nothing

a cigarette flutters and he drags on it, ashes on the bed between you, and he does not offer it to you even though he used to

you cling to the sound of his breathing because that’s all you can do and secrets pile up between you

your hands do not linger on his bare upper thigh

“it can’t be,” you think and your fear is encompassing, like your rage, like the wolf. he climbs into the shower without you, water on his skin

you turn your face to the pillow

you don’t hate him.

**iii.**

**you’re in love with a beautiful boy and you’ve said that you hate him, but you don’t.**

if there was ever a moment you wished for the change, for pain without meaning that sears every sinew, every particle, that twists you into something that does not have to think, it is now

there’s a man in the room with you and he forced a cup of tea into your hands and you do not even feel it burn your fingers

you cling to a beautiful boy in a photo because it’s all you can do and oceans lie between you

your hands do not linger on his pale printed face

“he did it,” you say, and the truth is staggering, like the murder, like their  graves. he leaves the room without you, tears in his long white beard.

you bury your face in your hands

you don’t hate him

**Author's Note:**

> heavily inspired by tumblr user lupinely and richard siken


End file.
